Soldier: 77
by Satellizer123
Summary: The lost son of Soldier: 76, getting tangled in the event known as "The Museum Mayhem". As a civilian, he saved the weapon, repelled Widowmaker, and took a piece of Tracer's heart. What if he had taken Widowmaker's as well? Follow Altona Morrison's footsteps as he joined the Overwatch. Set after the event in the official trailer. Tracer/OC/Widowmaker triangle.
1. Prologue

Hello everyone! Lately I've been smitten with Overwatch, and I'm pretty sure many of you are in the same boat as well. The gamelore is, well, nicely done for a MOBA; to be honest I just finished watching all the game trailers, and it does make the game even better than it already is!

Let's focus on this fanfiction. The main character will be the teenage blond in the Overwatch/Talon fight trailer (where Tracer and Winston clash with Reaper and Widowmaker). Well, essentially an OC character that is not exactly OC- it's for my peace of mind, since I don't normally read OC stories.

For the story's sake I will abandon the official age and character history, so as not to make the fic too deviant. Seriously, a 14-year-old boy with a 33-year-old widow that killed her own husband? That's some twisted stuff even I can't get behind.

So, I'll make the boy 16, and both Tracer and Widowmaker 22. A 6-year difference is, albeit still quite large, acceptable. Also, the story will take place sometime after the canon event. I just hope the backstory I made up for them will make relative sense.

By nature the story will be lighthearted and filled with fluffy romance. Humorous, maybe, but I cannot guarantee this.

Last but not least, I don't own Overwatch.

Enjoy!

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Prologue

Lena's jaw smashed onto the ground as she witnessed the most unlikely thing that could possibly happen.

An explosion forced her to halt what she was doing and turn around frantically. Not the kind of explosion that Winston made when his heavy armored body crashed onto the museum's ceramic floor, but the kind of electromagnetic explosion that caused her system to actually crash for half a second. She looked back just in time to see the blue-skinned assassin fly through the air, crashing several exhibition screens as she did.

The assailant, also the source of the EMP, was the metal gauntlet on the civilian boy's arm- the Doomfist Gauntlet, as Winston called it. Apparently, the attachable weapon was designed to counter Omnics armor; Lena distinctly remembered Winston discharge a similar pulse when punching a target dummy with it, rendering the poor robot non-operational. She had tried to do the same thing to no avail, as only by applying an appropriate amount of force could activate the gauntlet's ability.

This boy, then, must have the strength of a gorilla. Lena couldn't help but pity the assassin's face after that.

A part of the young Tracer's heart was taken that day.

She was flying. Everything had gone dark after the impact, the sensation of flying weightlessly in the air was all too familiar for Widowmaker. After all, she would not have been such an efficient killer if she weren't able to keep a level head midair. It was built-in instinct that helped her stay conscious after getting hit by something equivalent to a cannon. Fast as lightning, she had jerked her head backwards to lessen the damage, as well as twisted her whole body to minimize the crashing.

That did not change the fact that she was hit by Doomfist's Gauntlet, though. The gauntlet was created to destroy tanks after all.

That, Widowmaker decided, was the most painful pleasure she had ever experienced.

Wait… _Pleasure?_

The assassin inwardly gasped. She did _not_ just admit that she had felt good after that. It had been so excruciating, it might well be a thunderstrike to her face. It had caught her off guard, and God knows she had never been.

Still… It felt GOOD.

Talon's process of physical and mental reconstruction had been thorough. Her senses have been heightened to the point that she could hear movement much more clearly, as well as see enemies from much further away. She also obtained considerably better hand-eye coordination, allowing for lightning accurate shots. Her efficiency had been so perfect that she could kill literally as soon as she had the target in sight.

The modifications, however, came with drawbacks. Her haptic perception was also more sensitive, meaning she felt pain many times more acute than a normal person. With that said, all hits were practically labor pain to her. That was the reason why she had mastered maneuvering skills in order not to get hurt when jumping and falling.

Disregarding all that, she had _enjoyed_ the heavy hit.

Wiping the tears that instinctively escaped her eyes, Widowmaker wobbly stood up and took aim of the defenseless teenager. She had barely taken a good look at the aggressor's brown hair, baby blue eyes, dreamy face… before Winston's gargantuan figure jumped down in front of her. The assassin took a few panicked shots, before having her gun knocked out of her hand by Tracer. Beaten in all aspects, Widowmaker had no choice but to shoot the the grappling hook and holster herself upwards. Reaper followed her on the course, growling in defeat and frustration.

Widowmaker turned back to have one last look at the whole scene. Her gaze are not of hostility, but of… longing?

This was the second time in one day that the renowned 'emotionless assasssin' had questioned her feelings. Why was this possible?

One thing for sure, she was _definitely_ a masochist.

Widowmaker did not leave the place completely that day. She left a piece of her heart.

"Ya know… the world can always use more heroes."

Receiving the broken gauntlet, Lena said to the sheepish-looking boy. _My word, he's good-looking,_ she inwardly sighed. If only there were some way to meet him again; that would be an event she could not miss.

"What's your name, handsome guy?" Tracer asked, making the adolescent blush with her praise.

"… I am Altona. Altona Morrison."

"That's a great name!" Lena replied with a giggle. Then she did a double-take. "Wait… Morrison? Is your father…? No, it's not possible!" The boy perked up at this.

"My father? But we never know him! Do you know our father?" The boy, who was now known as Altona, asked frantically. This seemed to snap his younger brother out of his Tracer-induced trance too, and the duo both looked at her expectantly.

"… No, I don't know him either. I must have misheard." Both boys deflated visibly at her answer. "… Anyway! We do need people like you, Altona! I hope to see you again!" Lena hurriedly added with a smile… and a wink that she hoped was enticing. She had been a tomboy all her life after all; as it stood, she had no idea what the guys would consider attractive. Suddenly feeling shy, the young Tracer activated her harness and flashed upward and away, following Winston in pursuit of the bad guys.

The brothers stood there motionless, staring at Tracer's rapidly retreating behind…. Figure. Tracer's rapidly retreating figure.

"That… was…. awesome!" All of a sudden, the younger brother yelled. He turned to the side and hugged Altona tightly. "Did you see that? She was…. and you were…"

Altona, however, was not exactly paying attention.

"The Overwatch, huh…"

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Well, that's it for the prologue. I'd really appreciate it if you guys could leave some thoughts for me to dwell on.

Another thing, I would love to make a Tracer x Widowmaker fic sometime. There is no "but" here, I really will write one as soon as I can come up with a probable story.

See you guys later!


	2. Chapter 1

Hello everyone!

Thank you all for the reviews! My largely dead heart has been revived by all the praise you guys have given me.

Still, someone had pointed out a certain weakness of mine; the story has barely started and there are already inconsistencies. It's true that I totally forgot about the brother… let's just say they're one big adopted family. I never planned to add the younger brother in anyway, unless some leverage is needed in case of a hostage situation. But I don't think I'll include that anyway.

I feel like saying once more that I cannot write dark sinister stuff, and the story is meant for light reading. Meaning, you will probably remember it with a fond smile, but it probably won't go deeper than that. So write and wrong: the rivalry you mentioned will be there, but it most definitely won't be ugly.

Anyway, here is the first chapter. No Altona here, but a glimpse of Tracer and Widowmaker after the event. Enjoy!

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Chapter 1

One year after the Museum Mayhem….

Lena was in a good mood. Well, it was not to say she was usually gloomy and taciturn, but she was particularly exuberant today. She was humming all the way to… to nowhere in particular, as she was just wandering about in her favorite shopping mall. The young Tracer's overly positive aura seemed to affect everyone in the vicinity, and Mercy- her companion for the day- could not help but ask.

"Lena, dear, you seem very happy today. _Was geht?_ " The beautiful blonde woman stopped to joggle her mind for the appropriate English expression. "I mean, what's up?"

"Nothing really, I'm just looking forward to the recruitment ceremony tonight." Came Lena's chipper reply.

"Ceremony? Tonight?" It was not that Angela "Mercy" Ziegler was slow on the uptake, but she had been more preoccupied with surgery-related affair than the events outside. " _Ach so!_ So it was tonight."

"Uh huh! I can actually meet new, fresh recruits that's actually my age!"

Angela looked at the excited girl, her loving gaze laced with a hint of sadness. Due to the turmoil caused by the Omnics, many young people was ripped from their peaceful life and thrown into the crisis as men and women of war. While Tracer would probably not complain about this, it was clear that she had been through much more than she was supposed to. Particularly, the Slipstream accident, the tragedy that tore the genius pilot from the here and the now. Only thanks to Winston's chronal accelerator could Lena maintain a solid form. She was also in Angela's care back when she was desynchronized from real time, and it had pained Angela just as much then as it did now.

The blonde medic had a mind to spend time with Tracer as much as she possibly could- as a friend, a counselor, and a mother figure in the girl's life. While Lena appreciated and fully enjoyed the attention, she had always longed for someone her age to play with, share childish jokes with, and- last but not least- confide in.

Tracer was a strong girl, having kept up a positive and cheerful façade after all the hardships, and she deserved at least a close friend.

Pulling herself away from reverie, Angela feigned hurt.

"Are you saying that I'm too old for you?" She said with a pout that was definitely not her age.

This actually caused Tracer to do a double take. She looked back at her friend with a mischievous look, then- in a split second- blinked blackwards. The next thing Mercy knew, Lena was whispering into her ear, and it took all her willpower not to scream like a little girl she was (not).

"Even if I'm stuck in time and become immortal, you are still too old." Tracer stopped for emphasis. "Mom." She then leaned forwards to kiss Angela on the cheek before zooming away.

Mercy stood there completely motionless. Then, she screamed.

"LENA OXTON! YOU STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU!" Out of nowhere, the enraged blonde took out Winston's tesla cannon and began pursuit.

"Oh my god! Go away Winston!"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING WINSTON!"

Suffice to say, one could never be bored with Tracer around.

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Widowmaker crouched, staring curiously at the lifeform in front of her.

It should be mentioned here that she normally found everything suspicious. It is hard-coded in her mindset- a part of the brainwash protocol- that anything with a pulse could be a threat. While this sounded unreasonable at best and delusional at worst, the intelligence war was something to fear; any animal, no matter how small, can be used as info carriers, disease carriers, or even suicide bombers. Still, Widowmaker was not planning to put a bullet into the creature in front of her.

"Is it good, _mon cher chat?_ " She cooed to the creature- a fluffy orange cat. Said cat was happily licking in the milk bowl courtesy of the assassin.

Yes, Widowmaker had a pet cat. The notorious assassin, killer of many men and robots alike, had a pet _cat._

She had long accepted that the fateful punch that day did more than just dislocated her jaw and caused a concussion. The detonation had apparently fried up whatever intricate microchips and entrapments Talon had had in her brains. For the first time in forever, Amélie Lacroix was reborn- and she was not sure she liked it.

At first.

Now, she undoubtedly did.

The sparks of emotion that flew off in the wake of the detonation had been foreign and intimidating. She tried to control them at first, but her attempts were in vain; after a fortnight, she came to terms with the fact that human could not conventionally control their emotions. This has eventually born detrimental fruits to her mission, as her unchecked emotions started to seep in her performance.

The climax has been the failed assassination of Tekhartha Mondatta, a greatly influential figure to both human and omnics, one of a few key target whose death would incentivize the arrival of the Second Omnics Crisis. The overwhelming sentiments had gotten the better of her though; it took everything she had to pull the trigger, and it did not hit the mark. She was forced to retreat shortly afterwards with no time to recuperate, and she stumbled at a safehouse in the middle of the night, sobbing uncontrollably.

After a few nights of excruciating guilt, she severed her ties with Talon by simply disappearing. They never noticed that they could not track her, or eliminate her, until they tried; the EMP had miraculously terminated the microdevices without giving them a chance to notify their monitor. When the kill-on-sight order was given to all Talon agents, Widowmaker was long gone.

It had taken her a full year to become acquainted with feeling, not unlike a newborn child. She had laughed to jokes, cried to sad stories, and got irritated by passing flirts. It was unnerving at first, then she came to enjoy every second of being able to feel freely.

Stroking the soft fur of her loved pet, Widowmaker briefly wondered about her future. A frown made its way to her dainty face as she realized how unclear things were ahead of her, but she quickly shook away the dark thoughts. Before she became fully human, she would cross that bridge. For now, she would stay being a growing baby.

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Tracer sprawled on her bed and sighed deeply. While it was fun teasing Angela about her age, it was definitely tiring even for her. The medic must have alternated her stamina system somehow… that explains how she could bounce from soldier to soldier in the battlefield.

Speaking of soldier…

Lena's thoughts drifted to one particular, codename 76. An uneasy, yet familiar feeling arose within her as she remembered the event transpired at the museum. The kid (Lena sighed yet again, this time of fondness) had the last name Morrison, which is also Soldier 76's. Now, identical names had always been a coincidence, yet she could not shake off the feeling of familiarity when she stared at Altona's eyes. It had been strikingly similar to when she was recruited to the Overwatch ranks as a honor member; it has been Commander Morrison who came to congratulate her, and inspired her with his booming charisma and leadership. Over time he had become sort of a mentor to her, helping with techniques and skills that were not exactly up in Angela's field of work.

Could the beloved Commander have a long lost bastard child?

Lena could not wait for the truth. Yet, she did not know how to ask without angering the old man.

…

"Say, sir?"

"Hm?" Soldier 76 looked up from the papers in front of him. Seeing Tracer standing there with a rather sheepish look, he went back to his work with a grunt. "Lena, I told you to call me Jack."

"Alrighty then, Jack…" Lena mused, mostly to herself. She wondered what she should ask. "… The ceremony is in two hours."

"It is." Came the curt reply which certainly discouraged the girl even more.

"So… are you gonna be there this year too? To give a speech? To, um, congratulate the new recruits?" She finally found something to inquire.

"I am. Even though I'm not young anymore, it still falls upon me to do it." Jack Morrison finally abandoned his paperwork, taking off his glasses in the process. Lena wondered if the number 76 actually referred to the man's age; while it seemed highly unlikely that he could maintain being an efficient soldier at that point, technology had gone a long way and, well, it was another thing that Tracer dared not ask.

"Right-o then… I guess I will see you there." Jack merely grunted in reply. It was clear that the man was not in the mood for small talks, so Lena fled the room as gracefully as she could.

Leaning against the wall outside of Morrison's personal quarters, the usually flamboyant girl let out a frustrated sigh.

 _Well, maybe I will just leave it for another time,_ she thought. _Plenty of time to get an answer._

Little did she know, the answer came much sooner than she expected.

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Well, that's about it. Tell me what you guys think, please? I will try to fill up all the plot holes I made and will be making in the future, as long as I have someone point them out for me xD

See you all later! Have a good day!


	3. Chapter 2

Hello everyone!

Here I am with another chapter to "Soldier: 77". Again, thanks kindly for all your reviews. I appreciate your thoughts on the Widowmaker's change, and I feel a need to address it.

While it was true that Widowmaker no longer had an allegiance to Talon, this does not necessarily mean that she turned good. Think, a wild cat. Even if it eats the food you give it, it can still attack you if you come too close.

That's about it; any more would be spoiling the next chapters too much. What I mean to say is, I meant this story to be a light read, but not a simple read. *grins*

Last but not least, thanks Zabon95 for the protip. That is exactly the reason I put the mainstory one year after the museum event, so that any emotions kindled then would largely reduce to a fond memory at best.

Disclaimer: I don't own Overwatch.

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Chapter 2

Imagine a random ceremony. Like, Graduation Day, England's Accolade, or someone's marriage day. The time where everyone congregates to celebrate a common occasion, or an acquaintance's life-changing event. It was also a perfect opportunity to mingle and get to know new people, or reunite with a long lost friend that you'd lost touch with.

Lena particularly liked these kind of events. Being her bubbly, exuberant self, she made a point to talk to each and every individual she met at such meetings. That did not, of course, mean that she would intrude the personal space of unwilling people; she made sure to steer clear of them instead.

Somewhere in Talon headquarters, Reaper sneezed.

With that said, Lena marveled at the gathering of Overwatch agents in front of her. While the number was far from overwhelming- the organization WAS officially disbanded long ago after all- it was impressive enough for the young soldier who had spent too much time in separated hiding. In case of compromise, there could be no more than two agents hiding in one safehouse at the same time. This was arranged so as to minimize loss, as well as maintain sanity for those forced to stay for a long time.

No one could possibly be alone for so long, especially Tracer.

Lena spent some time reminiscing her good ol' times with former teammates. The first one to come to her mind was Zarya, whose imposing figure and pink undercut hair stood out prominently in the crowd. The bulky Russian had been the first to stay with her in the Novokuznetsk safehouse, acting as a guide and company for a whole year.

It had been a hassle at first. Being a quiet, industrous warrior, Zarya was greatly and continually irritated by Lena, whose ugly face only started to show when she was at home. Tracer was unusually talkative- and when restricted to one small area, this trait of hers was even more pronounced as she had only one target to chat with. While this did liven up the place and warded off any potential awkward moments, Zarya was not exactly glad. She would rather her peaceful workout sessions undisturbed, much less constantly barraged with "what does this machine do?" and "how many reps is enough?"

The only thing that kept the pink-haired woman from snapping at Lena was the fact that the younger girl was actually appreciative of her hobby; over time, the Brit was able to grasp the basics of fitness. For instance, she could now tell which exercise trained which muscle, when to workout and when to rest, an so on. After two months, Tracer also fell into a steady rhythm of workout that kept her limbs working and her mouth shut, much to Zarya's immense relief.

Thanks to the training, Lena now had the most glorious shapely ass in the history of Overwatch.

Until Russia, the brunette had been leading a messy lifestyle. Most of her possessions were kept in the same way she did her hair- ruffled and unkempt (it was a miracle how she managed to keep it clean and shiny though). To her, making the bed- as well as cleaning the dishes- was largely unnecessary and was only done when someone visits. This habit did not go unnoticed by Zarya; her orderly upbringing did not permit someone living like that, especially if that particular someone was living in the same house with _her._

To Lena's dismay, she had to do the dishes everyday, when Zarya took charge of preparing healthy food for both. The Russian would not stand greasy fast food just so Lena could avoid the clean-up duty.

This diet also contributed to the glorious shapely ass mentioned above.

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"Lena!" Said girl jumped as someone- shorter and bigger than her- glomped her from behind. While the voice sounded a bit to high-pitched to be an adult's, Lena knew better than that. After all, there weren't many women working as agents.

"Mei! My favorite doctor!" Somewhere nearby, Mercy sneezed.

Tracer wiggled from Mei's arms, giving her a proper hug. "I miss you so much! How's the trip from the North Pole?" She asked before stepping back to look at the climatologist. _My word, she looks even younger than me!_ Tracer thought. _Working in the freezing cold for so long must have done miracles to her._ Indeed, Mei looks as youthful as a teenager despite her age of 31. Rather than looking pale and blue-ish with frostbite, she somehow managed to keep a healthy pink complexion that complimented her even rosier lips. Combined with a pair of glasses and a constant smile, Mei was the epitome of inappropriate cuteness; no adult in her thirties should be that adorable.

"It's the South Pole actually, girl. And it's not a nice one, I must say." She looked down at her attire and pouted. "I forgot to change again, so it's freaking hot here." Lena laughed a bit at the scientist's miserable state.

Mei had always been a hero to the young British. Ever since she was young, she had been fascinated with saving the world; and just like any active teenager, she tried her best participating in many environmental campaigns. Therefore, upon hearing news of a scientist saving a nest of endangered wildlife from a collapsing iceberg, Lena was beyond fascinated. She began looking for more information about this heroine, and was even more thrilled to know Mei was the only one in her crew to survive a polar storm, yet remained unfazed active in her job. This marked the beginning of young Lena's fascination towards Overwatch, as well as everything that made Lena the famous Tracer today.

"Come, let's get you up to my quarters to change. I must have some clothes that fit you." Mei enthusiastically nodded.

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Imagine a random ceremony. Like, Graduation Day, France's _Jour d'armistice_ , or someone's marriage day. The time where everyone congregates to celebrate a common occasion, or an acquaintance's life-changing event. It was also a perfect opportunity to mingle and get to know new people, or reunite with a long lost friend that you'd lost touch with.

Widowmaker particularly disliked these kind of events. She had never been an extroverted person in the first place, and her circumstances usually forced her to stay above and away from the crowd. Moreover, since her assassination targets were sometimes _among_ the crowd, it just made her job harder having to aim even more precisely so as not to waste bullets and accidentally killed a wrong person.

However, on her grand quest of discovering herself once again, Widowmaker decided to participate in a more crowded event. A problem arose though; her skin had yet to come back to its original complexion, and she did not even know if it would. This would definitely compromise her locations should she choose to reveal herself in public, as a blue-skinned woman was unheard of and would attract everyone nearby.

She pouted to no one in particular. Feeling frustrated, Widowmaker pinced her cat, which was sleeping peacefully on her lap. Startled, it meowed angrily and leaped away.

A cat, huh… that gave her an idea.

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This chapter took me a while to write, since I was feeling a bit under the weather. I'm sorry to say the next one probably will take even longer, as there are still many things I need to think out before writing it.

Tell me what you think!


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